


won't he?

by delibell



Series: 100 Days of Harry Potter! [2]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, Harry Potter and the Cursed Child - Thorne & Rowling, Hogwarts Mystery
Genre: Angst, F/M, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Friendship, Jacob is still missing :(, Rowan is mad at MC, Unrequited Love, bill weasley owns my ass but so does felix, charlie is a blushing sweetheart, idk cant chose, lot's of letters, summer at the Burrow, very cute, you will see why;
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-01
Updated: 2018-07-01
Packaged: 2019-05-31 21:29:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 9,164
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15128201
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/delibell/pseuds/delibell
Summary: (name) comes over to stay at the burrow for a bit.[tumblr @delicrieux]





	1. won't he?

“What?” Charlie’s voice rises in pitch as Bill regards his younger brother with a gentle, somewhat awkward, smile, “(Name)’s coming over?”

“Rowan, too.” Bill adds, though Charlie does not seem to hear. He stares off into space, the night behind the window quiet and if their younger siblings would stop screaming and causing a ruckus downstairs, Bill’s room would be eerily silent.

It is no secret to anyone at home or at Hogwarts for that matter, that Charlie Weasley has a tiny crush on (Name) (Lastname), who is just as infamous as her brother before her. Well, perhaps (Name) herself is oblivious, since she was, for the last four years, busying herself with finding the Cursed Vaults and her long lost brother. Granted, she never really talked to Charlie, despite them being in the same year. She is Bill’s friend. It was Bill she chose to go on her dangerous adventures and it was Bill that invited her to stay over before his last year at Hogwarts. Perhaps Charlie feels a bit defeated by his brother. Perhaps Charlie is ecstatic as this is his chance to finally warm up to you. Whatever is going on in his younger brother’s head, Bill is unaware of. Usually he can read his siblings like an open book, but at the moment he himself is a bit preoccupied with getting ready for the upcoming visit of his two favourite people in the world.

The next day comes quicker than one would expect; the grounds around the Burrow are covered in thick fog so early in the morning. The sun, barely above the horizon, dyes the shadowy world with pleasant golden colours as the last drops of summer melt into the rye. Roosters sing their song. Animals and magical appliances alike clank and bark and Molly Weasley almost rips her hair out in frustration – the guests are on their way and  _nothing_  is prepared! She works diligently on meals and waking up her children while avoiding the various traps and pranks the twins had set up the night before. Though, despite the lack of preparation, sleep, or funds to house more guests, there is a strange delirious happiness in the air. As if something exciting will happen soon.

A flash of the portkey splits the air at around noon and Charlie nearly drops his gardening tools, taking a sudden step back from fright. A smile rises onto his face as he searches the garden for his brother, “ _Bill_! She’s here!” Though he does not quite see you yet, he notes a distant sway in the tall rye and a shimmer of (colour) hair hidden somewhere in the mass. His younger brothers curiously poke their heads out through the kitchen windows – they have heard a lot about you, neither Bill nor Charlie could shut up about you during dinner – as they hold their breath in anticipation. A garden gnome waddles to freedom before Bill grabs a hold of him and throws him suspiciously close to where Charlie think he saw you.

Though, soon the rye parts and you, wondrous and wide-eyed with excitement, emerge unharmed, though a bit dishevelled from the flight. You tug your suitcase along as you step into the clearing. You grin as you spot them, setting down your luggage to wave and flick dried grass from your hair. Winded and red cheeked you hardly notice a gnome follow after you. With a spark you drop your things and squeal as you almost hit the air in a boost. You sprint forward straight at Bill and engulf him in a big hug, nearly knocking him over. He chuckles, though it is a bit strained, “ _Hell_ , (Name), if you wanted me tumbling you should’ve just used the knock-back jinx…”

“Bloody hell, I missed you!” You muffle into his shirt, pulling away the next second to smile at him, “And you nearly missed  _me_  when you threw something. You did throw something, didn’t you? It nearly hit me in the head.” As if only now noticing Charlie staring at you, waiting to interject a shy hello, you let go of Bill and regard his younger brother with a small smile, “Hello, Charlie. Good to see you again.” He blushes in the afternoon light.

“Where’s Rowan?” Bill asks, robing his brother of a chance to talk to you once more.

“ _Oh_!” You blink, “Didn’t you get my owl? She said she’ll arrive tomorrow.” You say happily, your hands resting on your hips, “So for today, you have me all to yourself! Enjoy while you can.” Bill rolls his eyes. He is  _almost_  used to the somewhat bizarre things you say. He recalls many instances, during dinner or otherwise, where you’d keep chatting non-stop, saying things like ‘ _Let’s just keep talking’_ and ‘ _You can trust me’_. Which is  _clearly_  untrustworthy at all, especially with the shinning silver serpent embroiled on your uniform! Though, he trusts you anyway. But the rumours may be true. You might be a bit insane, eccentric, and a magnet for trouble. All the more reason to like you.

 _As a friend._  Like you as a friend, is what he means.

“ _Oh_ , you must be (Name) (Lastname)!” His mother’s voice shakes him as she emerges from the Burrow with a wide grin on her face and open arms, ready to engulf you into one of her famous hugs, which she does moments later. She squeezes you tightly. He only has half the mind to stop his mother, “Charlie and Bill have told me  _so much_  about you!”

“H-Have they now?” You send a curious look Bill’s way. He gives you a sheepish smile. “Only good things I hope?” As she lets you go her warm hands come to rest on your cheeks.

“Only that you are a great student, and an even better friend.” She responds lovingly. Her demeanour turns icy when she glances at Bill, “You finish off with the gnomes.” Her focus returns to you, and she is as sweet as cotton once more, “(Name), dear, you must be starving. Lunch is almost ready.” She pats your cheek, “Well take care of you nicely, don’t you worry. I’ll even send an owl to your parents to let them know you’re in good hands.”

“Thank you, Mrs Weasley, really. But I don’t mind helping Bill—“

“Nonsense.” She dismisses you instantly, “ _Head Boy_  should have  _no_  trouble dealing with a small gnome problem.” She then turns to Charlie, “ _Well_ , what are you standing around for? Get the suitcase,  _off you go_!” With a jumpy nod Charlie scurries away. His little siblings snicker, but once you glance at them they promptly hide behind the windowsill.

“No, really, Mrs Weasley,  _I insist_.” You say, “It’s the least I can do. Plus, Bill would probably starve to death before he ever gets this done in time.”

Molly Weasley sends her oldest soon a knowing look, the smile on her face softening before she glances back at you. She is most definitely scheming something, and as much as he would want her to not do that, he would also very much enjoy your company in dealing with the garden gnomes. Not that they are a real hassle. His mother thinks for a moment longer before caving in,  “ _Ah_! Well, alright. I’ll allow it. But  _only_  because you insist, (Name) dear. You come find me when you’re done.” With one last look sent Bill’s way, his mother finally leaves the two of you alone.

Hardly able to contain your grin, you follow after him with a sort of pep in your steps.

Bill sighs, “Okay, out with it.”

“Does she ever call you Billy Willy?”

He snorts, “No.” Noting the look in your eye – one that just spelled trouble – he quickly adds, “Don’t even think about it.” He states as he stops near the shed where a trail of small, fat, bearded garden gnomes are foolishly migrating from one spot to another.

“Think about what,  _Billy Willy_?”

“ _That_.” He mumbles as he snatches an unlucky creature by his feet, “Do you even know how to deal with garden gnomes?”

“Can’t be more difficult than dealing with an Ice Knight, can it?”

He cocks his head to the side, “You’d be surprised. They might be harmless, but they are tremendously stupid. And annoying. That alone is a challenge to face.” For the next minute or so he calmly explains how to deal with the gnomes as one tugs on your shoe laces, “Ready?”

“Spin, throw, spin, throw.” You repeat to yourself, “Just like Quidditch.”

“ _Well_ …” He halts his throw to ponder, “That’s one way of looking at it, I suppose.”

Hours pass filled with laugher and hushed breaths. The temperature increases as the sun rises higher and higher, sweat tickling the back of his neck and his forehead. What was first just a moderately simple task of getting rid of the gnomes soon turned into a friendly competition of who can throw the farthest. You might have used some magic to aid your victory. Just some harmless jinxes that made the gnomes fly higher. You were soon discovered and disqualified, and as punishment Bill Weasley had the pleasure to completely ruin your hairdo. What first resembled silky strands of (colour) hair now appeared more as a bird’s nest.

The laugher dies down into giggles as the two of you rest on the grass and watch as the now much smaller ward of garden gnomes curiously stumble about. Another hour and this would be over. Neither of you move into action, though, too tired of competing or too tired of working. His arms are sore and he feels a bit light-headed from the heat. With the back of his palm he wipes away droplets of sweat from his forehead, smearing some dirt on it instead.  Out of the corner of his eye he notes you dig your fingers into the grass as you absentmindedly pull some weeds and watch as they fall helplessly as you let them go. He knew this would happen. Somewhere in the back of his mind he knew full well that once you are here, he will start viewing his last year at Hogwarts as some sort of twisted farewell. During the whole of summer he has not once dwelled on the idea that the upcoming year will be tremendously difficult. Being Prefect was stressing enough, now Head Boy? To top it all off, his final exams are within reach and he sincerely doubts he will be present for all the adventures you and your friends will go on. He feels a bit distraught. He wonders if your friendship will stay the same, despite his future lack of involvement in your life. Wonders if…If you’ll still be friends once he  _finishes_  Hogwarts.

You share his line of thought, or at the very least, he thinks you do. You seem distant and thoughtful, and he doesn’t dare to break the silence, instead letting the background noise fill the humid summer air.  _Of course we’ll still be friends_ , he scold himself, letting a soft frown slip onto his face. This is all so  _stupid_. Clearing his throat, he starts, “So…” Your eyes flicker in his direction curiously, “Any badge I should be congratulating you for?”

You grin, “ _Nope_ , Prefect was out of the question for me. I would have had to take away house points from myself,  _and_  give myself detention. That spot is Rowan’s.” You hum, “Though, Rosier was a bit disappointed…”

He raises a brow, “ _Rosier_? As in… _Felix Rosier_?”

“Yea, he had a lot of faith in me. Even tried to get me in good graces with Snape, though I doubt it did anything but make him hate me more.” You mumble, “For the Head of my house, he sure is a twit. But…” Your smile softens, “It was a sweet gesture.”

Bill does not like where this conversation is headed, “Doubt it didn’t benefit in any way.” He sounds bitter, he realises, defensive even. It boggles his mind as to why.

“You don’t know him.” You point out.

“He’s a  _Slytherin_.” He counters. You frown.

“ _And_? I am too. Rowan as well. I don’t see why that matters.” Your voice takes a sharp edge to it and he knows that if you two continue like this it will end up in a fight. He has heard you praise Rosier in passing conversations, off comments and mindless blabber, but to speak of him in such a soft tone….One that surely implies…implies…

What does it imply?

Well, whatever it is, he does not like it.

You sigh heavily, tired of this conversation already, as you hug your knees and come to rest your chin on, “ _Whatever_. Rowan’s Prefect. I’m me. Rosier is still somewhat of an arse. You’re Head Boy, and a bit of a doofus. Nothing new in the Magical World.”

He smiles lightly, grateful for the change of subject, “Nothing new indeed…”

“It is your last year, though.” You say offhandedly, though something in your tone betrays it being not just a simple passing thought, “That’s something new, innit? Are you happy to finally go on some serious curse-breaking adventures after school?”

He thinks for a moment. Admitting that he doesn’t want to leave at all would do nothing but make you worried, and that is the last thing he wants. Alas, with a shrug he mumbles, “I guess…” His gaze wanders to the swaying rye, the stumbling gnomes, the flowers growing by the shed, and lastly they come to rest on you, “I’ll miss  _our_  curse-breaking adventures, though.” He smiles, and notes the corners of your lips quirk upwards, “What about you?” He asks, taking you aback, “What are you planning to do after Hogwarts?”

“I…I haven’t thought about it, really.” You admit, “I…only really came to Hogwarts with the intention to find my brother.  Until I do…” You trail off, not knowing how to finish.

“I know it may sound rich coming from me, but…” Bill starts gently, cautiously, watching you expression for any hints of hostility, “You should think about your future as well.”

“You’re right, it is rich.” You state, “You of all people should understand, Bill. After all, you’d do anything for your siblings, just like I…” You mumble, “I mean, look around. Your home is so full of life and…Mine used to be like that too. I just want that back.” You add sombrely, your eyes shooting away from his very concerned ones.

“…I’m sorry.” Bill sighs, “I’m just…I guess I’m worried about you. All of your friends are, I mean. That you’ll end up disappearing like Jacob.”

“Nonsense, with you there to help me I’ll only get into a moderate amount of trouble.” You smile, trying to lighten the mood. It doesn’t work, though.

“But this is my last year.”

Your hand finds its way to his and squeezes reassuringly, “Best find him quickly, then.”

Had you hand always been so warm? Smile, so beautiful? If so, he had shamefully only now noticed, but that did not stop this strange delirious happiness to take hold of him. Without much though, his fingers intertwine with yours, “We will, I promise.”

Rowan showed up early the other morning, muttering apologies for being unable to get in touch sooner as she shared hugs with the two oldest Weasley brothers and you. Molly, of course, soon jumped to greet her and welcome her warmly, just like she had welcomed you, whilst ushering her into the kitchen for breakfast. The table, a mess as per usual, seated the whole family: Mr Weasley reading his newspaper, Fred and George whispering about upcoming ‘secret projects’, Ron eyeing his brothers in a wistful way, wishing he too would be a part of their master plan, Charlie, who eagerly chatted with Percy about his upcoming year at Hogwarts, and Bill, who nudged at Ginny – by far the shyest and sweetest girl you have had the pleasure of meeting. Now, of course, you and Rowan sat there, too, another addition to the family. You couldn’t help but smile into your cup of pumpkin juice.

You missed this commotion. Without Jacob, the breakfast table back home is dull and silent.

“So,” Mrs Weasley finally sits down, her eyes fixed on Rowan, “Bill told me you’re the new Prefect.”

Rowan sends you a glance before turning back to Mrs Weasley, “Yes, that’s me.”

“Do keep an eye on these two, will you?” She says mischievously, eyeing you and Bill, “They have a knack of getting themselves into trouble.”

“Mum…” Bill utters under his breath.

“Don’t worry, Mrs Weasley!” You interject cheerily, one arm wrapping around Rowan’s shoulder as the other snakes itself around Bill’s, “Promise, no trouble this year! Angels, every single one of us.”

“That’s right!” Rowan is quick to agree, “Besides, O.W.L’s are just around the corner and—“

A loud shriek cuts them off and every single head at the table turns to one of the kitchen windows; outside, in the golden sunlight, brown feathers float silently. A moment passes before a distraught owl jumps from the ground and pecks at the glass. You recognise it to be  _your_  owl; the same owl you sent to Bill to forward that Rowan will be late. You note the letter you sent to Bill still strapped by her leg, along with a blue envelope.

“Blimey, Griffin…” You mumble, ditching your seat and rushing to let your poor owl in, “You’re even dumber than Jacob’s bird,” Griffin not-so gracefully lands on your shoulder, her nails only slightly digging into the fabric of your clothes, “… and that one is Barnaby levels of stupid…” You murmur as you trying to untie the note from her leg, but with a shriek she nicks your finger, highly offended, “ _And_  Barnaby levels of  _sweet_.” You finish bitterly, sending your owl a glare.

The blue envelope is velvety in your fingers. Turning it, your heart skips a beat and you can’t help but smile as you recognise the pretty handwriting of the former Prefect.

_To: (Name) Not Prefect (Lastname)  
From: F. Rosier_

You are awfully curious to what this letter might contain, but you refrain from tearing it open just yet. You’ll have plenty of time to do so later. Now you have breakfast to finish, so with a small smile you ask where Griffin could rest and get some food. Mr Weasley is the one to help you this time, and before long Griffin is taken to meet the Weasley owls and you join the table again, this time two letters in your grasp. You give one to Bill.

“That’s the one I sent to let you know about Rowan…Not that it matters much now.”

Rowan raises a brow, “And the blue one?”

“From Felix.”.

“What do you think it says?” Rowan presses as Bill listens closely. You shrug, grabbing some jam and toast.

“Dunno. Probably just sharing his wisdom and whatnot. Didn’t you get a letter too, Rowan?” You inquire. Her brows knit softly.

“ _No_ , why would I?”

You hum, “Guess I thought he’d want to congratulate you, is all.” You explain a tad awkward, “With…being the Prefect. The future of the Slytherin house. I’m sure he’s proud of you.” You finish with a smile. Rowan hardly seems amused. Instead, her demeanour turns cold as she look away, taking a bite of her breakfast. You gulp. Uncomfortable. Rowan has been acting strangely since the ending of year four. You are still unaware as to why – it is more likely that you simply don’t want to dwell on the idea of your friend being somewhat jealous of you – and after she received the congratulatory Prefect letter along with a shiny new badge she has been almost unresponsive to your various attempts at extending an olive branch. Felix Rosier is the good guy of the Slytherin House, and everyone looks up to him, Rowan included. He had hardly spoken a word to her, though, and because Felix isall about maintaining the prestige reputation of the House, it is a bit concerning that he didn’t contact Rowan in any way. She might be upset about that. And, you being close with Bill and all. Rowan has had a crush on him since year one.

“Well, who cares what Felix wants?” You say as a second attempt to lighten the mood. You turn to Bill with a smile, then at Rowan, lastly you look at your toast, “Two of my best friends in the world are here…” You say softly, “That’s what matters.”

Rowan smiles a bit. Bill doesn’t ease up. There is just something about Rosier that makes his skin crawl. And you not opening the letter to read in front of them – honestly, if it was just something unimportant like you tried to convince them, shouldn’t you be fine with sharing? – makes him all the more bitter. This is just like yesterday. One mention of that pretentious prick and your so called friendship has made him lose his appetite.

 _You’re jealous,_  a tiny voice in the back of his mind sates. He tries his best to ignore it.

He glances at you, babbling something to Ginny in a cheery tone and the girl responds enthusiastically. He takes in your features – you seem a bit tired, yet still lovely. Funny, really. He has seen you up close plenty of times over the year, yet never really appreciated until now. A strand of your hair falls from the messy bun you had tied once you woke up, falling over you cheek. Subconsciously, as if it is his first instinct to do so, he hooks his finger around the silky strand and tugs it over your ear with a loving smile. You turn to him perplexed and blushing, but even then, the look of surprise is promptly replaced by a shy smile.

Rowan watches this exchange, and how nonchalantly the two of you fall back into your respective roles as if nothing had happened. Bill keeps stealing glances at you from time to time. You, however, continue to bounce around in conversation with everyone at the table, whilst Felix’s letter rests safely in your lap.

***

Rowan Khan is many things – smart, loyal, kind-hearted, accepting – but not stupid. She is very perspective, and it is an outstanding quality to have for a future Prefect, or for a good friend. Whilst her standing with you has been on thin ice for a while, and it is mainly Rowan’s fault, she still cares about you lots. You are her best friend, and nothing in the world will change that. She just needs time; time to assess who she is and who she wants to be. For the last four years Rowan’s achievements have fallen flat compared to yours. A breaking point was inevitable. While she wished to support you, somewhere along the line, especially in the competition to become Prefect, she had grown bitter and distant. But that is irrelevant now. Rowan’s relationship with you will fix over time, for now she has bigger troubles. Like knocking some sense into Bill Weasley, who is finally,  _finally_ , after  _so many years_  of dancing around you, has come to admit his feelings.

She saw it in his eyes, see.  _Affection_. Real affection, not hidden behind any shadow of platonic friendship or otherwise.

So that is why, when the sun hid behind the horizon and the sky finally turned inky black, Rowan seeks Bill out. You are preoccupied with Ginny – the youngest girl had grown fond of you and you of her – and Charlie, as he had managed to interest you in his dragon collection. The three of you occupied the kitchen. Reaching the highest floor Rowan finds him lounging in his room. The door is pried open, and she can clearly see him staring at a page of a heavy leather tomb, but his eyes stay unmoving. Rowan knocks gently on the wooden door. Bill perks up, curious to whom it is being so polite and once his eyes meet Rowan’s he smiles, “Hey…” He shuts the tomb and sits up on his bed, grateful for a distraction, “Thought you were keeping Fred and George out of trouble?”

Rowan sighs, “Is that possible?”

Bill chuckles, “No, but an honourable try.”

With a hum she looks around the room. Small, yet cosy, just like the whole of the Burrow. Another bed sits close to the door and Rowan assumes that this one is Charlie’s. With a sigh, more to collect her thoughts than anything, she plop down and intertwines her fingers, “I came to talk to you.” She starts, the tone of her voice hardly betraying a pleasant conversation, “I know you’ve noticed…some tension between (Name) and I, but she’s still my friend and I’d do anything for her.” She steadies her gaze on Bill, “But you are, too. And that’s why I’d hate to see (Name) or you hurt because of something you are unable to admit.”

“What—“

“I see it, you know.” Rowan continues, unhinged, “The way you look at her. It’s even more obvious now than it was at Hogwarts, to be honest. And how you practically hissed at the mere mention of Rosier was a pretty good giveaway, too.” Rowan gives him a tight smile, “You should tell her. If she accepts your feelings, then the two of you can finally be happy and perhaps she’ll forget her death wish. If she rejects you, then…At least you’ll know and can move on, eventually.  _Move on to someone that loves you._ ”

That last part might’ve been said with ulterior motive. Rowan glances away, lost in thought, “I’m surprised it took you this long to realise. But I must warn you, Bill. (Name)’s a popular girl. A brilliant witch. But most of all - a good person. There are plenty of people that fancy her. So be prepared to deal with that, too.”

Her warning hangs in the air. Bill’s lips thin into a line as he counts the dust particles falling from the ceiling.  _There_. Rowan has said her piece. Now she can sleep soundly. She hopes that a bit of friendly encouragement will propel him into action. Though, if she recalls correctly, Bill was always uncharacteristically shy and nervous when it came to romance. With those thoughts swimming in her head, she slowly stands up, turning to leave before she says more than she should.

“Do you think she likes me, Rowan?” Bill asks, thoughtful.

Rowan smiles, “She doesn’t like you, Bill. She  _loves_  you. I’m just… not sure if it’s in the way  _you want_.” Loud footfalls echo in the stairwell, approaching at an alarming rate, “Anyway, I’ll leave you to figure that out on your own.”

Rowan barely steps out the door before nearly colliding with you, red cheeked and out of breath. You gasp for air, “There you are!” You almost lose your footing and go tumbling down the stairs. Rowan hurriedly grabs your hand and steadies you with an unease smile. “I’ve been looking ev-“ Your gaze falls to the open door and Bill curiously peeking at you. Your eyes go from him to Rowan, a smirk curling at the corner of your lip, “What have I missed?”

“Nothing, really.” Rowan reassures, “I actually promised to help Percy with homework, so if you’ll excuse me…” She sends Bill a look that’s clearly saying ‘ _Tell her now’_  before she trots down the stairs.

You enter his room unaffected, “Hey,  _Billy Willy_ , do you have a quill I could borrow?” You motion to the open blue envelope in your hand, “Can’t find mine anywhere.”

“ _Uhm_ , sure, just take one form the table…” He motions vaguely to the writing desk nearly drowned in various knick-knacks, papers, and old literature. You nod gratefully. In a few quick steps you grab a white feathered quill and a bottle of ink as Bill gets comfortable on his bed, ready to dive into the tomb he had been reading before Rowan disturbed him.

“In a hurry to reply to Rosier?” But he can’t focus.

You shrug, “Sort of…” Your eyes wander down to the letter. Bill suddenly puts down the book.

“Hey, (Name)?” His eyes meet yours and you blink owlishly. The intensity of them catch you off guard.

“…Yes, Bill?”

Silence. You stare at him, waiting, but words fail to form.

Alas, he gives you a nonchalant smile and picks up the book again, “It’s nothing. Better hurry and write that letter.”

Your face falls but he fails to see it, already flipping the pages to find where he had left off. Hiding your disappointment well, you nod and murmur that you’ll ‘ _be in the kitchen, if you need me’_  before exiting his room in quiet steps.

Now is not the right time to tell you. Plus, he’ll still have the whole school year, won’t he?

…Won’t he?

 

**BONUS:**

(Name) (Lastname),

It has come to my attention that you did not accept your Prefect badge in favour of your friend Khan. A noble gesture, but I cannot say that I agree with it. Send my regards to her, but that is as far as my concern goes.

I have never ventured into a Cursed Vault, and dangerous adventures were not my priority. I must admit that now I am ashamed that I have turned down this opportunity. Despite your group of friends consisting of oafs, they do seem like a favourable bunch. If I was to venture with them, I do not doubt that it would have been ‘really fun and exciting’ as you always like to point out. However, I do believe that the  _two of us_  can uncover something great at Hogwarts. That is why, if your offer to break the rules and come close to death still stands, I would be delighted to accept. As long as no Gryffindors or other tag along. Khan is fine. Do keep in mind that we will have to meticulously plan this. Not a detail should go unnoticed. As Head Boy, I will not hesitate to take away House points or give you detention if you get caught without me. However, if the two of us are together, according to the rules I am supervising you; therefore we are doing nothing wrong. I found this loophole a while back, but never had a chance to exploit it. Now we must.

As Prefect, Head Boy, and your friend I must advise you not to forget about your studies. You tend to get carried away, and I would hate to see you hurt because of your own foolishness. The O.W.L’s come quicker than you realise, so please prepare for them in advance. I know you are a brilliant witch, but brilliance often comes with madness and you are full of that. If you ever need any help, you know where to find me.

Are you at the Weasleys already? Next time you wish to stay over, you are always welcomed at the Rosier estate. It may be a bit gloomy for your taste, but I am certain you would find a way to entertain yourself. Alas, I myself would not mind your presence. In fact, I have prepared a list of things we could do. If you are interested, I shall attach it to the next letter. There is still a month of summer left…Unless you have plans already. If so, I will see you on the train.

Write soon. Yours, Felix


	2. idiot

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> (name) comes to stay at the rosier estate for the last days of summer ;)

The Rosier estate rings true to the letter Felix had sent you so many moons ago: tall, gloomy, and surrounded by looming pine trees it relishes in its solitude. The heavy gates wad off pesky visitors, the glimmering eyes of the silver serpent on its lock following your every move. The sky is grey. Everything has a sort of pale glow to it. The resting summer heat had melted into the trees, the air now restless and chilly. You pull your jacket closer to your body once a gush of wind tugs on the strands of your hair. A lump forms in your throat. To call the Rosier estate anything but  _intimidating_ would be an understatement.

That or, perhaps you are simply nervous. You had never travelled so far to visit a friend. You had never stood in front of a boy’s home, alone. And you hadn’t told anyone you are to stay with Felix till the train to Hogwarts demands for you at King’s Cross. You had only briefly mentioned it to Penny in a letter, offhandedly mumbled something to Ben in a telephone call (telephone… _fascinating_!). Rowan does not know, and it is best it stays this way. Bill, too. Not even your own family is familiar with your whereabouts. You had told them you are staying with Tonks. Why? Why lie?

Your heart skips pleasantly when you see his figure emerge from the manor – he is so far his body is merely a smudge in the monotone background. Why, because no one would allow you to visit him without another friend by your side; because no one would allow you to associate with Felix outside of Hogwarts due to the rumours about his family and their supposed involvement with the Dark Lord himself.

He strides to you in quick, long steps. When he is finally close enough to make out his face, you smile at him shyly, and he gives you a curt nod, the corners of his lips quirking upwards ever so lightly. He takes out his wand and in one graceful motion the gates rattle open, a burst of magical energy passing your body and sending a shiver down your spine. Somewhere behind you crows croak and flap their wings, a ward of them spilling into the sky like black ink.

Finally, you get a good look at him. Out of his robes he appears even leaner, though still handsome to boot. His eyes glimmer in a silent hello, and overall he seems pleased with your appearance, if not a bit tired. Tugging your suitcase behind you, you enter the grounds and pebbles crunch under your feet. The gates slowly swing to a close and the serpent locks itself once more, solid as steel.  _This sure is a change from the Burrow_ , you think, your mind shimmering with happy yellow and orange images as you glance around the quiet, grey and green scenery. Felix puts away his wand. He then reaches for your suitcase and you promptly release it, almost frightened that he was to touch your hand. Feeling a bit silly, you smile awkwardly as he takes your suitcase, unhinged and unbothered. No magic required. Just pure curtsey. He is, if anything, a true gentleman.

“We don’t get many visitors.” He suddenly comments; you had been so enraptured by the far away white marble statues that you completely forgot to talk, “You are the first one in years.”

It sounds like typical small talk, just something to fill the air with until the two of you reach the manor, which is quite a stretch away. Though, Felix is not one to make small talk. His voice betrays nothing but polite inquiry, yet it still manages to ignite a pleasant flame within you. You grin at him, your attention now on him and on him only, “It’s an honour.” You say, genuinely. He glances at you, though abruptly sets his eyes straight. He tries, and fails, to fight off a smile.

“Have you had a look at the list I sent you?” He asks, referring to the letter. You nod.

“There were…quite a few things.” You recall, “Though, most of them contain studying—“

“As they should.” He hurriedly intervenes, “Your exams are just around the corner. Mine, too. As Head Boy, it would be incompetent of me to suggest anything but.”

“Felix,” You start, “right  _now_  you are  _not_  Head Boy. You’re just  _a_  boy.” You grin, “And it’s summer.” You glance up, “Lookin’ a lot like autumn right now, but I swear to you it was sunny when I left.”

A soft sigh leaves his lips, “Just as I expected…You will find other ways to entertain yourself.”

“A brought a few muggle board games.” You agree, “Ben recommended them to me. Have you ever heard of Monopoly? He is terrified of it. Said it destroys families. Ends friendships.”

He sends you a sly look, “We have nothing to worry about, then.” as he opens the main door to his home. You raise a brow, confused. Does he mean your friendship is strong enough to withhold Monopoly? If so you are delighted. However, that may also imply that you are not friends at all. Which makes you bitter. Which is it? Oh, that absolute twit. Begrudgingly, you follow after him.

The main hall is airy and lavish – though the decorations are sparse, they are expensive and picked with care. A mixture welcoming soft colours. It is a stark contrast between the outdoors. You feel as if there is an attack on your senses – your ears pick up bits of music, your nose tries to distinguish scents of cologne and musky perfume, your eyes try to adjust to how bright the interior is. You try not to awe at the pale statue of Aphrodite by the stairwell, cladded in sea shells and looking as beautiful as tales had described her being, but alas, fail. With no luggage weighting you down, you twirl to examine the statue up close.

“It’s a real shame, you know.” You start, quietly, your voice a rasp whisper, “That you don’t get many visitors.” You manage to peel your eyes away from the goddess and meet his dark gaze, “Your home is beautiful.”

“Really?” He raises a bored brow, “The word I’d use to describe it is…dull. Though…I suppose the audacity of it fades after a while. That is, until you get to see it through another’s eyes.” With a pleased smile you turn back to the statue. “Perhaps you are right.”

“Of course I am. Everyone needs to walk through a museum from time to time. I mean, really now, often do you get to see something so pretty?”

His eyes linger on your back, wistful.

“Quite a lot, actually.” He says thoughtfully. You figure he is referring to his home and snort.

“Right,  _well_ , not all of us live at a place that has an  _inner_  and  _outer_  courtyard.”

He smirks, “Really? It is quite common within the pure-blood families, so those aspects are hardly measures of wealth or status. You forgot to mention the Grand Library and my father’s Private Library, and—“ You narrow your eyes at him, crossing your arms over your chest. That only plays into his amusement. “Should I make a list?” He inquires in a peppy tone.

“ _Oh_ , yes, because we all know how much you love those.”

“You hadn’t mentioned of a visitor, Felix.” You freeze in your spot from the chilling, low, though calm, voice of a woman. Wide-eyed and shaken, you whip your head upwards to greet what you presume to be his mother. The resemblance between him and her is striking. Your eyes meet hers and you gulp, “I assume you forgot.” She drones, almost lazily. She descends form upstairs in a slow step, her right hand gliding down the railing whilst the other holds a pipe.

“Mother.” Felix greets, his voice void of any prior chipper it had had, “This is-“

“(Lastname).” She states, her attention on you unwavering, “I know. It is a pleasure to meet you, Miss (Lastname). Your brother was quite the character. I expect nothing but great things from you, just like I expected of Jacob.” She smiles at you, though the smile could not be anything but pretentious. You do not like it, “I’ll leave you to it. Do be nice to (Lastname), Felix.” She sends her son an icy glare, “Do not embarrass us.” With that she saunters away, in the same lazy sway that is neither slow nor quick. Before long she disappears down the hallway and her footsteps melt into the soft melody coming from the walls.

Felix turns to you, worry tugging on his heartstrings. Your eyes bore into the place his mother had gone, your jaw tense and arms crossed tightly. You are, by all means, a laid back a fun person. But anything having to do with your brother makes you intense and vulnerable, determined, though secretly unbelievably hurt. He knows you well enough by now that his mother’s comments have struck you deeply, and he will now reap what she had sown.

“I can explain.”

Your eyes peel off the empty space they had been staring in, now fixed on him in a hateful, angry look “ _You better_.” though your voice betrays nothing but tired sadness.

***

You are led to one of the many guest bedrooms that is as impressive in its size as it is in its decoration. Though, the previous adventure driven wonder of seeing something new and shiny is replaced by a deep seed of unease and anxiety that blooms into a flower with roots strong enough to choke you from within. Nothing else interests you, not you being alone in your bedroom with Felix, not the amazing view of the gardens outside the window, not the upcoming exciting year at Hogwarts. Your pace had been tense and you could not stop fidgeting. Your foot taps impatiently, fingers  _pat pat pat_  on your sleeve. Once Felix puts away your suitcase he takes a seat on the comfy bed, bouncing a few times before the mattress settles. You remain standing.

“My mother” He starts, his eyes wandering around the room, “used to be a teacher. She taught  _Defence Against the Dark Arts_  during the years your brother had attended Hogwarts.” His gaze lands on you and your arms fall by your sides, “She is one to favour students, and Jacob was the brightest wizard in class. He was a role model, to me and many others. Though, when he came to know about the Cursed Vaults…you know how the rest of the story goes. Though, I do firmly believe that my mother adored him even more because of it.” Felix admits, “She did not teach long, because of…” His eyes wander to his wrist and you understand him perfectly. The Dark Mark. Whilst it does not adore his flesh, you did note a tattoo peeking out the side of the silky garment his mother was clothed in. With a soft frown and a sigh you plop down next to him, your shoulders brushing his. “That is why…” his voice is quieter now, more careful, “my first attempts at befriending you were…highly encouraged by my mother.”

“You mean harassing me for house points?” You inquire with a strained smile. He snorts.

“No, that was just me looking out for my house.” But he smiles all the same, though soon he falls back into the thoughtful expression he wore prior, “My mother thought she was in debt to your brother. That I had to look after you because of it.”

Your eyes go wide in surprise. This is a revelation, one you did not want to find out. The root of anxiety squeezes tighter and you look away from him, “So…Am I still some…  _project_  to you?” Your voice comes out a whisper, a question you do not entirely want an answer to.

His hand comes to rest of the side of your jaw, firm on your soft skin. He tilts your head to face him, his finger caressing the side of your lips, almost absentmindedly, as his eyes wander from your eyes to the line of your hair to your mouth and back with a small, dazed smile, “No, not at all. I never thought of you in such a way, (Name).” You blush like a rose under the morning light. Your mind whirls like a bizarre storm of confused feelings, though none of them are unpleasant. The proximity, his touch on your skin – all of this is new, though not intrusive. Your lips part to take in a breath of sweet air, your eyes never leaving his own. Such a mysterious, hypnotizing gaze.

Though the soft, near loving, smile soon melts as realization dawns onto him like sunlight after heavy rain. His hand falls from your cheek and he scoots away, just an inch, so the two of you would no longer be connected. His touch still lingers in the tingle on your skin, the erratic beat of your heart. You are so out of it, you hardly realise he is looking away, a rosy blush blooming on his cheeks.

“Well, I’ll leave you to unpack. I’ll come find you later.” He blurs, abrupt to stand and leave. Your eyes follow after him, though you are unable to say anything. Once the door is shut sharply it all finally crashes down onto you. Dust settles. Silence. Not a sound. You bounce on your mattress, a stupid grin blossoming on your lips. With a giggle, now full of excitement and glee, you fall back into the sheets and relish in this new found happiness.

The next few days are spent in a similar fashion: exploring the house, and the boundaries of your friendship. The first day is spent at the gardens since Felix knows you enjoy Herbology. He shows you around the impressive plot, it growing and blooming with healthy flowers and bushes, bees, butterflies, and other insects living in perfect harmony. He has trouble naming some of the more complex species when you look at him so… _How_? Wondrous and loving, hanging onto his every word. You seem to enjoy the sound of his voice more than the pleasant silence that comes after it. The two of you had walked around for a long while, you wondering aloud just how many statues must a wealthy family have. He, with a snort and a roll of his eyes, though good-naturedly, replied with ‘a whole bloody lot’. The second day of your stay was exploring the Grand Library and the parlour. The library was more of a maze, and even more silent than the rest of the house. It held a scent of coffee and old parchment, enchanted it must have been because with one swift inhale you became instantly focused. The parlour was more fun. It turned out to be the source of the music. Grand and lavish, just like every corner of the estate, it was open to all dancers. You had mock practiced your steps, but he refused to join you. Instead, with a book he had grabbed from the library, he made himself comfortable on one of the couches, occasionally glancing at you swaying to the rhythm of waltz with an invisible partner. An odd thought had occurs to him that he should have asked you to last year’s dance. Who had you gone with? It had been some pest from Gryffindor, but not a Weasley. Why on earth hadn’t he saved you, he had no clue. He should have asked you. That is all he could think about as words swam in his vision.

You have grown to love the lonely rooms of this manor, and you already felt sad to leave. Tomorrow you and Felix will take the first train to King’s Cross, from which you will proceed to find the rest of your friends and be on your merry way to Hogwarts. But it somehow does not seem as fun as it had nights before. Spending time together had made you cherish his presence, crave it even. You knew that at Hogwarts the two of you will be pulled away from one another, by work or by others….

But does it really have to be that way?

You eye him, lying in your bed and examining the plans the two of you had conjured an hour prior. The Cursed Vaults. You had not forgotten them, frankly it is the only thing you hadn’t forgotten whilst being with him. The two of you had sat down to plan meticulously, just like he had suggested you would. This will be his first exploration of a Vault, one you believe is hiding somewhere in the dungeons. With all the evidence collected, the two of you had drawn a map and some possible scenarios.

It is well past your bedtime, deep into the night. Dim lights flicker by your bed, warm and glowing. The window is open to let the chilly night air in, though it is still impossibly warm. You feel like being honest. Perhaps it is the inky darkness behind the window whispering to you. Perhaps you are simply tired. Alas, you take in a small breath of encouragement before starting, “I’ll miss you.” That catches his attention and he halts sits up, “Harassing me for house points.” You add awkwardly. He seems to relax, releasing a breath of a laugh and putting away parchment he had been invested in.

“Don’t worry, I will send an owl weekly to stay informed.” He replies slyly,” Though, there is still a whole year before that.” He reminds you, and you smile.

“I know.” You shrug, “But I’ll also miss your home.”

“You can always come back.” He says seriously and your heart jumps pleasantly.

“ _Really_?” You ask, sounding more eager than you wished. He either does not notice, or simply does not care.

“Of course. My mother would love to have another go at you.” He says. You wilt a little.

“And…” You fidget with the paper, “And would… _you_  like me to come over again?” He stares at you intently and the silence makes you nervous. Feeling heat caressing your cheeks, you look away and await his response. Are you too forward? Will he interpret your question as another friendly gesture? It certainly sounded like an underlying confession to you, but perhaps he did not catch on. You bite your lower lip in worry; roll it between your teeth. Your eyes wander to the empty cups of coffee standing idly by your feet. Had you drank too much for your heart to race so quickly? You never took yourself to be a shy one, though clearly you were wrong.

“I especially would like you to visit.” He says, meaning every word. You gulp, “After all…there are plenty of places you have yet to see.” His eyes twinkle mischievously, “My bedroom being one of them.” He comments slyly, meaning it as a jest but seeing your flustered expression makes him take a mental step back and assess what had just left his mouth. Awkwardly, he mumbles, “I was joking.”

“It’s not funny.”

“Yes, I was told my humour need improvement.” He ponders aloud, rubbing the back of his neck, “But I do mean it all. Except the bedroom part.” He sends you a nervous glance. You continue staring at the plan that was seemingly the most important part of this meeting just minute prior. “I will miss you too, though.” He says after a while, “It will be strange to finally leave Hogwarts. I have grown quite attached to it. And to…” His voice dies down in his throat when you finally look up at him, “And to…And to  _you_.”

As peculiar as it may seem, his words do not catch you off guard. It is like he is voicing something already known, plain and clear, some belief that only needed reassurance. And there is no sudden crash this time, just familiarity, no surprise, just a pleasant tingle and airy lungs. Your breath hitches in your throat as a smile blooms on your lips; you watch him watch you in the dim glow of the room.

“Is that a confession?” You tease, unable to withhold you glee. He refrains from rolling his eyes, yet grins all the same.

“Depends on your answer.”

You scoot closer, and he does to. The plan, now entirely forgotten, proves to be no obstacle as it slides off the sheets and slumps on the carpet. His hand, once again, finds the already familiar position of grasping the side of your jaw, his thumb slowly running over your cupid’s bow. His eyes, dark pools of brown, wander from yours to your lips and back, “Answer. Now.” His breath comes out a hiss, his tone somewhat impatient and strained.

“Just kiss me you bloody  _idiot_.”

In one swift motion his lips crash onto your own with enough passion for you to melt right there and then.

**BONUS:**

King’s Cross is a hectic mess of people colliding with one another or their luggage. A concerned Rowan Khan stands on her toes, narrowing her eyes behind her glasses in search of a familiar face in the crowd of bumbling, excited students. Bill Weasley stands just as uneasy as his friend beside him, his gaze roaming in search of you. The first whistle had already gone off, and another will soon follow as a heated warning to all of those loitering in the station to hurry up.  _Have they missed you?_  They wonder in union. Bill turns his gaze the opposite direction where a swarm of Hufflepuffs hop onto the train. Perhaps you went to find Penny before he and Rowan, he ponders.

Rowan spots you. Her hand was already reaching for Bill’s sleeve but it halted mid-air as her lips slowly parted in disbelief. You stand with Felix Rosier, hands linked and sharing heated whispers about secrets only the two of you know of as fellow Slytherins help carry your luggage. It feels as if lightening had struck her; she stands frozen in horror.  _How_?  _When_?  _Why hasn’t she heard about this?_ Felix laughs quietly as you complain about one thing or another, most likely Griffin screaming in her cage.

“Rowan, I don’t see her, maybe she—“ Before Bill can turn and see the horrid sight, Rowan jumps into his vision with a strained, frantic grin, grasping his hand in her firm hold and levelling his gaze. “ _Rowan_?” He asks, concerned.

“I _…I think (Name) was eaten by a dragon_. We should go.”

What was meant as a joke, a gesture to soften the blow of upcoming heartbreak only makes it worse. It resonates with Bill, the ache of first love, and he is chillingly aware of what those words really mean. Rowan tries to stop him from looking over his shoulder with a whine, but he ignores her. A part of him wishes he hadn’t.

There you stand, glowing with happiness, as Felix kisses the side of your lips before excusing himself to go to the Head Student compartment.

Bill is an idiot. Rowan said this will happen. He is  _real bloody idiot._

He should have told you.

He really  _really_  should have told you.


End file.
